The Black Notebook VII: The Cradle Will Fall
by Celtic Knot
Summary: Written for the Sheppard HC LJ 'loss of a child' fic challenge. Any more would be giving it away. JohnTeyla.


**The Cradle Will Fall**

As the door to his quarters slid shut behind him, John Sheppard finally let the tears come. He'd had to be strong for Teyla, but when Beckett eventually kicked him out of the infirmary, he'd avoided everyone else as much as he could and fled to his room. The few people he did run into tried to offer comforting words, but he ignored them.

Most of the senior staff knew what had happened – that much blood and panic was kind of hard to miss – and he didn't want their pity, or even their sympathy. The look of understanding sadness on Beckett's face as Teyla had broken down and sobbed on John's shoulder was more than he could bear. He just needed to be alone to think. To write.

He dropped into a chair and flipped open the black notebook that lay on his desk, wiping the salty drop that fell on the page, smearing the neat blue lines. He barely noticed.

His black pen began its frantic dance, almost of its own accord.

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God, what a roller coaster ride these last few weeks have been.

I was a mess when I returned to Atlantis after my sister's funeral. All I could think about was how I'd so completely screwed up my relationship with her, and now it was too late to do anything about it. And to make matters worse, it was Daniel – her son, my nephew – who would have to pay the price.

Teyla, perceptive and compassionate as always, didn't ask any questions. She gave me a few days to grieve before she dropped her bombshell on me.

I guess it was inevitable. We'd been sleeping together – after a fashion – for quite some time, but this never once crossed my mind.

"John," she said, staring me straight in the eyes, "I am carrying your child."

This she tells me over lunch? I very nearly choked on my turkey sandwich. "You're _what?" _I managed after I had narrowly avoided literally dying of shock. "How… how far…" Nope. Coherent sentences were definitely not happening.

Fortunately, Teyla understood what I was trying to ask. "Six weeks. Doctor Beckett confirmed it the day before you returned, but I had heard about what happened while you were on Earth, and I didn't think it was… appropriate to tell you immediately."

"Uh… thanks…" I muttered, feeling a little woozy. I had no idea that it was possible to be both mourning and deliriously happy at the same time. How could Teyla be so calm about this?

Of course, I should have known something would happen. It always does. This is me we're talking about, after all – "happy" never lasts long. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I kind of floated through the next month or so on Cloud 9. It wasn't long before everyone in Atlantis knew, and they were all eager to help out in any way they could. Parenting advice, baby gifts… and Teyla wasn't even showing yet. Elizabeth even took to calling me "Dad" when we were off-duty.

I remember the conversation Teyla and I had, trying to decide on a name for the baby. "If it's a girl, I'd like to call her Domenica," I said. "After my sister."

Teyla smiled. "Domenica. That is beautiful. And if the baby is a boy?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "What do you think?"

"Perhaps we should name him after his father."

I must have made a weird face at that, because she started to laugh. "No," I objected, "I don't want a 'John, Junior.' I can just hear the nicknames: Jack, J.J., or worse, just Junior. I'm not putting any son of mine through that."

Teyla nodded her acceptance in that graceful, dignified way she has, that always makes me feel like a bumbling teenager. "Very well. Shall we revert to Athosian tradition, then?"

"What's that?"

"In many Athosian families," explained Teyla, "the first daughter is named for her father's mother, and the second for her mother's mother. Similarly, the first son is named for his father's father–"

"No way. My father was an abusive bastard, and a drunk, to boot. What do you say we name him after your father?"

"Tagan." Teyla's expression grew wistful, and there was a far-away sort of look in her eyes. "He would be very proud, were he still alive."

"So it's settled, then?"

"Indeed. Domenica for a girl, Tagan for a boy. Somehow, I think it's a girl." She stared at me thoughtfully. "She will be the first child to be born in the city of the Ancestors for more than ten thousand years. The child of two galaxies."

Dammit. The page is getting wet. And I can't see to write.

All right. That's a little better, anyway.

So that brings us to this morning. My team had a standard recon mission on the schedule, but Teyla, about eleven weeks pregnant, wasn't feeling well, so she stayed behind. I was worried about her, of course, and all I really remember about the mission is McKay's endless jokes about how completely distracted I was.

Why do I only trust my gut instincts on the battlefield? Today, every fiber of my being was screaming at me to stay home and watch over Teyla, but the more rational part of my brain insisted that she was fine, and even if something did happen, Beckett could take care of her and the baby.

I shouldn't have listened. Not that there was anything I could have done, of course, but maybe, if she had been in her quarters, or in the infirmary, or anywhere else instead of the 'Gate room waiting for us to return, things would have turned out differently. Beckett told me otherwise, but I can't help thinking that _maybe…_

Who am I kidding? The worst had actually happened a few days after Teyla's last checkup. Nobody had any idea, so we found out the hard way.

As Ronon and McKay headed toward Elizabeth's office for the post-mission debriefing, I stopped to talk to Teyla. "Feeling better?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. If I am still feeling unwell this evening, I'll go see Carson."

"Are you sure you don't–" I broke off in mid-sentence as Teyla's face suddenly turned a ghastly white. We stared at each other for a moment, then looked down.

Her legs were covered with blood. I caught her as she collapsed, laying her gently to the floor while I shouted into my radio for Beckett to bring a medical team to the 'Gate room. After that, everything became sort of a blur. I spent the next few hours in a daze of terror and grief.

Dr. Beckett saved Teyla's life, but the baby had been dead for nearly a week. There was nothing anyone could have done.

Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.

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Sheppard slammed the notebook closed and buried his face in his hands. What did the Fates have against him? How was he supposed to go on? It was just too much to deal with, and the weight of it all was crushing the life out of him.

He didn't know whom to turn to. His relationship with Teyla was still somewhat ambiguous, neither one knowing quite where the other one stood. Elizabeth would offer well-meaning but ultimately meaningless words, and Heightmeyer was simply not an option. There was not a single person in the entire city he could open up to. All he had was this goddamned notebook, and _it_ wasn't helping. Sheppard suspected that nothing would, in this case.

He fell asleep with his head on his arms, his closest companion lying quietly on the desk beside him like a faithful dog.


End file.
